


Something Good

by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Emma Whitmore Gets to Be a Good Person, F/M, How Do You Solve a Problem Like Mariaaaaaaaa, Human Disaster Garcia Flynn, I REGRET NOTHING, Idiot Turtles in Love, If It's Stuck in My Head It Has to be Stuck in Yours, So Much Sexual Tension, Sound of Music AU, They Gonna Bang Like a Screen Door in a Hurricane When They Finally Get Their Shit Together, Yes I Shamelessly Took the Title From the Song, You Know What's Sexy? Hating Nazis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 15:18:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20048194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/pseuds/letmetellyouaboutmyfeels
Summary: Struggling with the loss of her mother and sister, all that Lucy Preston wanted was to be a nun. Instead, she has to butt heads with widower Captain Garcia Flynn over the raising of his five unruly children. But the sparks flying between them can't be denied, and neither can the changing face of their nation. And what Lucy wants out of life just might change for the better.





	Something Good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [extasiswings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/extasiswings/gifts).

> For my darling Christine, as a present for surviving the bar exam. All of my love!

Mother Superior, although she preferred to be addressed merely as Denise among her fellow sisters in the abbey, had a difficult task in front of her.

Lucy Preston, one of their novices, was proving more difficult than most to settle into the abbey. Michelle (most did not call her that, but Michelle was… well, certain sisters knew certain things but everyone was thoughtful enough to look in the other direction) had just today brought in another report of Lucy going up into the hills and picking flowers and running about like a five-year-old, and as a result had been late for mass yet again.

“She simply does not have her mind on the abbey and on our Lord,” Michelle had said. “And that is no sin, but it means that she doesn’t belong here.”

Denise privately agreed. But Lucy had been adamant about wanting to spend the rest of her life with them. And Denise truly believed that Lucy’s love for the abbey was real. Unshakeable.

However…

But if she were to turn her away and not allow her to take her full vows, then where would Lucy go? She had no family, not anymore. Denise did not believe in turning someone away. Even if that someone was constantly waltzing in the hallways, whistling, climbing trees, and turning up in a torn and muddied dress.

There came a knock on her office door. “Come in.”

One of the other novices entered, a letter in hand. “This came from the Flynn residence, Reverend Mother.”

Oh, no. That could only mean one thing—yet another governess had not worked out.

Captain Garcia Flynn was a highly respected man, as well he should have been, but after the death of his beloved wife, his household had… well.

Actually.

Denise took the letter, thanking and dismissing the novice, and then sat back in her chair. This could be what she’d been hoping for. And if it didn’t work out then of course Lucy was welcome to come back but if it did… it would kill two birds with one loving, convenient stone.

Denise got up. She would summon Lucy after chapel. If the girl could manage to be on time for once.

* * *

Lucy knew that it was only a matter of time until Reverend Mother—Denise, as she gently insisted—summoned her.

Yes, all right, so she had sassed back just a little at Sister Marguerite but who wouldn’t? And perhaps she had been late to chapel again but she’d been on time for lunch! And who cared if she had curlers underneath her wimple?

Her stomach tightened into a painful knot and her knees trembled as she knocked on the office door. The nuns had been so patient with her. After Mother—and Amy—she’d known that this was the place for her. When she and Amy had been children, they would climb up the abbey walls and peer over, to listen to the nuns singing, and oh, it had been the most beautiful sound. Lucy had loved learning about the history of the abbey, reading all the books in its library, and had even briefly wished she could get away with dressing up as a man so she could become a monk and use their even more extensive library instead.

This was her chosen home. She couldn’t bear to be rejected from it.

“Come in,” Denise said, her voice smooth and calming as always, revealing nothing.

Lucy entered, closing the door behind her, and came to sit down when she was indicated.

Denise graced her with a warm smile. “Lucy. I hear you’ve been keeping us all on our toes lately.”

Lucy could feel her face heating up. “I’m not trying to, honestly.”

“I know.” Denise leaned forward a bit, resting her hands on the table. “But I thought that perhaps it was time that we thought of… placing you somewhere else to see if you might not fit in better there.”

Lucy felt her throat go dry and tight in fear, and she had to swallow a few times to get her voice working again. She gripped the edges of her seat hard, digging her nails into the unforgiving wood. “But…”

“There is a local man who has lost his wife, and has need of a governess for his five children.”

“I—five?”

“Four are adopted.” Denise picked up what appeared to be a letter. “You can start in two days…”

“No!” Lucy jolted up to her feet, swaying on the spot, feeling ill and dizzy. “Reverend Mother, _please_, I belong here, in the abbey, I don’t—this is my home!”

“And why is it your home, Lucy?” Denise countered, her voice growing firm. “Why do you wish to stay here?”

“Because—you know why!”

“I want you to say it.”

Lucy swallowed. She felt sick. “Because of—of my mother. And my sister. Because of Amy.”

Denise’s face gentled. “Then why do you suppose I am asking you to look after children who have also lost their mother?”

Lucy thought a light breeze might blow her away. She sank back down into the chair, gripping the arms tightly.

Denise smiled at her. “Lucy. They have had their world turned upside down, just as you did, and their father fled. Why do you think they’ve had such trouble with governesses? I thought that perhaps they would need someone who could understand their pain.”

“I’m too young,” Lucy whispered. “I’m not good with children, anyhow. I was always reading history books, I never played house or babysat.”

“But you know what it is to be alone, and to lose family.” Denise clasped her hands together on the desk. “And I think that is vastly more important than experience, in this matter.”

Lucy swallowed again. There was a lump forming in her throat that refused to go away. “Denise…”

“You will always have a home here, if you wish it. But I truly, I really do, think that you will find a better home there. At least give it a try. Just for a month. If you don’t fit there, you can come back here and we’ll speak no more of it.”

Lucy nodded. A month. She could—she could do a month. And to help grieving children… she did understand what that was like, it was true.

She could do a month.

“All right,” she whispered.

And that was that.

* * *

Lucy stared up at the house. It was… it was massive. She had never seen anything like this.

She was shown in by a _butler_.

Of course, Mother had always spoken of Lucy’s family roots, of how they had once been rich and powerful, of the Keynes and the Cahills. But Lucy had grown up a bookkeeper’s daughter, not in anything like… like…

“Wait here,” the butler—Karl—said, his voice solemn and carrying just the faintest tone of condescension.

Lucy glared at his retreating back.

There were so many rooms here, all of them closed by heavy, ornate doors. Lucy quietly walked over to one and peered inside, curiosity overcoming her. Perhaps it was a sitting room of some kind, or—

Oh!

Lucy slipped inside, gazing in wonder. It was a ballroom, a marvelous, big one, with a huge chandelier and painted walls and the far wall being completely done up in big windows that poured in light. Everything was covered with cloth, and she suspected it hadn’t been used in some time, but…

Lucy stood in front of an invisible partner, and curtsied. She was glad that she hadn’t married Noah, her one-time beau, but she had enjoyed having a regular dance partner.

Turn and step, turn and step, step step turn and—

The doors banged open and she jumped, her heart leaping in her chest.

A tall, impressive looking man with stormy eyes and a tight jaw was glaring at her.

Oh, Lord, this must be Captain Flynn.

Well, she supposed there were worse ways she could’ve met him.

“Did your mother never teach you not to go snooping behind closed doors?” the captain asked.

Lucy straightened up. “Did yours never teach you not to snap at people?”

Captain Flynn looked unsure what to do with this rebuttal. “You’ll learn that there are some rooms in this house that are off-limits.” He gestured for her to go back into the hall.

Lucy walked past him, feeling rather… underdressed in her dowdy dress and sweater next to the captain’s polished uniform.

“And you’ll have to put on another dress,” the captain added. “Before you meet the children.”

Lucy bristled. “I’m sure it doesn’t matter to the children what I wear.”

“Have you looked in a mirror? You’ll have to change.”

“I don’t have anything else.”

The captain stared at her. “That’s your only dress?” He looked like he was hearing her speak in ancient Greek.

“Well, yes. When we join the abbey all of our worldly possessions are given to the poor.”

The captain arched an eyebrow. “What about this one?”

“The poor didn’t want this one.”

The captain stared at her for a long moment, then pulled out—a whistle?

He pulled out a _whistle _and let out a piercing note on it. Lucy clapped her hands over her ears.

There was the sound of clattering feet, and then four children thundered down the stairs: a teenage blonde, a slightly younger looking slim girl with tan skin and dark hair, a dark-skinned boy with gangly arms and legs, and an adorable dark-haired girl with big cheeks.

All four stood in a line, at parade rest.

A moment later, one of the other doors opened and a second dark-skinned teen emerged, this one looking about the same age as the blonde girl, reading a book.

Captain Flynn sighed and walked up to the teen.

The teen looked up. “You called?”

The captain held out his hand for the book. The teen handed it to him, rolling his eyes, and took his place in line in between the dark-haired girl his age and the younger dark-skinned boy.

“All right everyone, this is Lucy. She’s your new governess. State your names when I give your signal.” Captain Flynn looked over at Lucy. “You’ll want to learn these so you can call them, the house is enormous.”

“Can’t I just use their names?”

“I’m not going to have shouting in my house.”

“But you’ll have a piercing whistle note, because that’s so much more peaceful.”

Captain Flynn got that weird look on his face again and looked at the children. “State your name when you hear your signal.”

One by one, he gave a distinct whistle signal, and one by one, each child stepped forward. The first was the blonde. “Jessica,” she announced.

“Jiya,” said the dark-haired girl, glaring at the captain.

“Rufus” was the one who’d been reading. “Kevin” was the younger boy, and that left the youngest, who stomped forward and looked at her father.

“That’s Iris,” the captain said quietly.

Iris stomped back into line.

“Familiarize yourself with these signals,” the captain repeated, handing Lucy her own whistle.

Hmm.

Lucy waited until he started to walk away, then let out the longest, loudest whistle blast she could. Captain Flynn flinched, then slowly turned back to look at her.

Lucy held up the whistle. “What’s your signal?”

The captain worked his jaw. “You can simply call me Captain.”

Then he turned and walked off, closing one of the doors firmly behind him.

Lucy looked over at the children. “How about we go through that again but without the whole… business. I mean. At ease.”

The children relaxed and Jessica stepped forward. “I’m Jessica, but call me Jess, I hate my full name, and I’m sixteen and I don’t need a governess.”

“We’ll just be friends then,” Lucy assured her.

“I’m Jiya, and I’m fourteen. I can read fortunes.”

“She can’t,” Kevin protested. “She just got a stupid tarot deck and now she thinks—”

“Shut _up_, Kevin.”

“How about you read my fortune later then?” Lucy cut in, trying to head the argument off at the pass.

“I’m Rufus,” the older boy said. “Jess and Jiya and Kevin and I are adopted. Or sort of adopted. Kevin and I aren’t really legally his kids.” He paused. “So Jiya and I aren’t siblings.”

“That sounds reasonable to me.”

Jiya and Rufus both relaxed and she noticed that Rufus stood a little closer to Jiya so that their shoulders could brush.

“I’m Kevin,” Kevin said, “and I’m ten, and I’m incorrigible.”

“Who told you that?”

“Governess number four. We’ve had twelve governesses. What does incorrigible mean? Dad—the captain—won’t tell me.”

“That’s because he’s incorrigible too.” Lucy winked at him. “It means that… you want to be taken seriously.”

The littlest one, Iris, stepped forward and held up her hand, showing five fingers. “You’re five?” Lucy said.

Iris nodded.

“Practically a lady.”

“She’ll be six soon,” Kevin added.

“All right,” Lucy said. “We’ll have to do something special on the day, then. Now I’ll be honest. I’m not going to use a whistle on you, and I’m not really like other governesses. I’ve never been a governess before, in fact. So you’ll have to help me, and I’ll help you out. Does that sound fair?”

Jess snorted. “How could you possibly help us out?”

“You’d be surprised.” Lucy picked up her suitcase and her guitar. “So, which room is mine?”

The other four all looked at Jess, clearly the leader. Jess sighed. “This way.”

* * *

Jess opened the window as quietly as she could—

“You’re going to get caught!”

She winced, then looked back at Jiya. “I’m going to be fine!”

Jiya set aside her tarot cards and climbed across the bed to Jess. “Father’s going to be furious if he finds out.”

“Father needs to remove that fucking stick from his ass. He never used to be like this.”

Jiya twisted her hands in her nightgown. “He’s just scared about losing you, Jess, like he lost Mo—”

Jess barely resisted the urge to slam the window shut. “We all lost Mother! He lost a wife, we lost our mom! He’s not the only one who gets to be sad!” She realized she was all but shouting and lowered her voice to a hiss. “I’m going to see Wyatt, and if you want to tattle on me, that’s your choice.”

Jiya bit her lip. “Okay. But be careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

“You are the opposite of careful.”

Jess ignored her as she climbed out the window.

* * *

Wyatt grinned as he heard Jess whisper-calling for him. “Over here!”

Jess flew to him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him down into a fevered kiss. Wyatt slid his hands up her sides, feeling her warm and solid against him, and resisted the urge to cry, just a little.

It had been weeks since they’d seen each other. He’d loved Jess since… since he couldn’t even remember, and before Lorena had passed, he’d imagined that there would be no reason why Jess’s parents wouldn’t approve of the two of them. He’d been over at the house all the time, and Captain Flynn had been the kind of person Wyatt had always wished was his father, instead of the asshole he’d ended up getting.

But then Lorena had died, and everything had changed. Wyatt had gotten involved with Hitler Youth, and the captain had made it clear he didn’t approve of that in the slightest. Jess and the other kids were no longer treated like kids, they were treated like they might fall over and shatter like glass, with the governesses keeping a close eye on them.

And governesses! Lorena never would’ve stood for that. She took care of her kids herself, and the captain had always been there, but now he was going to Vienna all the fucking time and Jess—when she had been able to get away—had been a storm, a hurricane, raging and crying because she missed her father. It had been all Wyatt could do to help her to release her emotions, calm her down, comfort her.

“Our new governess is easy,” Jess whispered. “I was able to get out, and I think I can get out easily again.”

“What about your father?”

“He’ll be going back to Vienna soon,” Jess spat. “He hasn’t announced it yet but you just know that he will.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He’s going to marry the Baroness. He hasn’t said it but—it’s all but certain.”

Wyatt kissed her on the cheek. “Hey. Honey. It’s going to be okay. You’ve got me.”

“Do I?” Jess threaded her fingers in the back of his head, guiding him to kiss down her neck.

Wyatt pulled back, confused. “Why wouldn’t you?”

Jess shrugged, petting his hair, his face, smoothing out his jacket. “This… this group you’re with, it…”

“It’s to look out for us.”

Jess shook her head. “Is it? Is it really? Or is it just to look out for the people who look like you and me? What about the people who look like Rufus and Jiya and Kevin? What about the people like my father who aren’t even Austrian, who aren’t from here? He was born in Dubrovnik, he’s not… good Austrian stock or good German stock or…”

“What do you think is going to happen?” Wyatt asked, confused. “They’re—they’re good people, they just want to restore us to where we deserve on the world stage, they want to make us great again. The way we used to be.”

Jess sighed, then hugged him tightly—painfully tightly. “Wyatt. Are you sure that you don’t like them just because you want… approval? A place to belong?”

“What—”

Thunder rumbled above them, and then the skies opened and dumped a torrent of rain.

Jess shrieked and Wyatt laughed, startled, dragging her underneath the nearby gazebo. The captain had built the gazebo for Lorena, as a wedding present. The house and all of it had belonged to Lorena. The money was all hers. And so as a present, the captain had built the gazebo for her with his two hands, all on his own.

Jess had told Wyatt that story one hot summer morning as they’d laid on the floor of it, staring up at the ceiling, holding hands. It had been the day he’d first kissed her.

“Maybe we should wait it out?” Wyatt asked.

Jess shook her head and laughed. “Oh, no, this is going to go on for a long time. I should get back. But.”

She kissed him, deep and passionate, until Wyatt’s knees buckled. “A little something for the road,” she whispered, kissing his nose.

Wyatt grinned dopily at her as she ran off through the rain.

* * *

Thunder rolled and rain pounded down on the roof as Lucy finished brushing her hair and opened her bed, then got down on her knees.

She had struggled at times with God, after her beloved little sister and then her mother had passed. She had seen the abbey as a place to retreat from the world, but not always, necessarily, a place to be closer to God.

But she wanted to try. She believed in free will, and in the ability to make her own choices, but she also believed in—wanted to believe in—a spiritual higher power. Something that was… loving, and looking out for people.

Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

Still.

Lucy clasped her hands in front of her and closed her eyes. “Dear… um. Dear God. It’s been a while, I know. But… the Reverend Mother has sent me to be a governess to these children, and… they’re good children, but angry, and lost, and hurt, and—they remind me so much of me, and it scares me. I want to help them. But I’m not… good at this. So. If you could help me.”

She paused. “I’d like to help the captain, too. He’s trying to be this firm, imposing person but I think he’s just someone who’s hurting. Someone who’s lost somebody, just like I have, and he’s hurting and sad and alone, and I just… I want to do something. Even if he was annoying.”

Lucy was just about to get up from her knees when she heard the window behind her open.

Keeping her eyes mostly closed, she opened the right one just a crack, just enough to see a flash of blonde hair.

Well, good thing only one of the kids had blonde hair.

“God bless all the children,” she added. “God bless little Iris, and Kevin, and Rufus, and Jiya, and especially God bless Jess, and give her the knowledge that if she is sneaking out of the house, all she has to do is tell me, and that I won’t tell on her to her father.”

“I counted the windows wrong.”

Lucy stood up, turning and opening her eyes. “I thought so. I heard you leaving.”

Jess was soaked to the bone. Lucy went into the bathroom, fetching a towel. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I have… I have someone. But Father doesn’t like me to see him.” Jess accepted the towel with a murmur of thanks. “He’s a part of the new… political party. The National Socialist party. He’s a part of their youth branch. Father doesn’t approve of the party.”

Lucy was relieved to hear that. She disliked the leanings of the party, although she hadn’t heard as much as others, while in the abbey. But she also knew it was easy for young people to get swept up into things, and hopefully this boy of Jess’s would see how ridiculous it was and come around.

And she knew that the captain forbidding Jess from seeing this boy clearly wasn’t going to work.

“Well, I won’t say anything to your father, I don’t see why there’d be any reason to.” Lucy helped Jess out of her soaked clothes and hung the dress up in the bathroom to drip dry as much as it could, as Jess continued to towel herself dry. “Why did you think my window was yours? You share with Jiya, don’t you?”

“Jiya won’t be asleep. She stays up and reads the tarot deck.” Jess looked hesitant, then added, “It was the last gift that Mother gave her. Before… she got sick. Iris got really sick too, we thought we’d lose both of them. Father didn’t sleep for days. But Iris got better, she just doesn’t talk much now. She didn’t lose her voice or anything, she just… doesn’t like to.

“And Jiya—I think she thinks—if the tarot can tell her the future then she can change it, or at least know what’s coming and prepare for it. So she can know if she loses someone else.”

Lucy sat down on the edge of the bed. “We all cope with loss in different ways. When I lost my sister and my mother, I went to the abbey to become a nun. I thought that leaving the world behind, burying myself in history and separating myself… would help.”

“What do you think now?” Jess asked. She accepted the robe that Lucy handed her, wrapping herself up in it and sitting down on the bed.

Lucy took her hair brush from the side table and began to brush Jess’s hair. “I think I’m supposed to be here, with you. I know what it’s like to lose a mother. So maybe… I can help you all with that.”

“Father’s trying to give us a new mother,” Jess said, bitterness entering her voice.

Lucy paused. “Well, no one could replace your mother—Lorena was her name, right? But—”

“It’s not that I don’t want father to marry again. I want him to be happy with someone and Iris needs a mother and I know—if it was the right person—we’d all like a mother again. But the Baroness, she’s not the right person.”

A loud crack of thunder sounded outside and the bedroom door flew open as a tiny figure ran pell-mell into the room, leaping onto the middle of the bed, and grabbed onto Jess and Lucy.

“Oh hello monkey,” Jess said, petting Iris’s hair.

“Were the noises scary?” Lucy asked.

Iris nodded. Jess was still a bit wet with her hair and so Iris curled into Lucy, clutching at her nightgown.

Lucy’s heart skipped a beat, and she scooped Iris up into her arms. “You know, when I’m scared, I like to sing something. Would you like me to sing to you?”

“Father and Mother used to sing to us,” Jess said quietly. “They would do duets. Father would play the guitar and… sing us lullabies.”

Lucy glanced at her, then settled back onto the pillows, adjusting Iris so that she was properly in Lucy’s lap. “Well then. I’ll sing.” She ran her hand over Iris’s hair. “My mother used to sing this one to me. _I wished on the moon for something I never knew… wished on the moon for more than I ever knew…_”

Jess lay back onto the bed, watching with sharp, sparking eyes as Lucy sang to Iris, feeling the girl getting heavier and heavier, her breathing evening out, until she was asleep.

“She’s not Father’s favorite,” Jess whispered. “He doesn’t have favorites. But she’s the only one Mother had. Jiya and I were orphans, and they thought Mother couldn’t get pregnant, so they adopted us. And then Uncle Connor, he couldn’t look after Rufus and Kevin after their mother died, he’s busy with business, so Father and Mother took them in. But Iris, she’s… she’s our miracle baby. And she looks just like her. And I think that hurts Father just as much as it makes him happy.”

Lucy shifted her grip, then stood up, holding Iris in her arms. “Show me her room?”

Jess nodded, getting up, and helped her to put Iris back to bed. As Lucy turned to go back to her room, Jess caught her hands, squeezing them. “Lucy?”

“Yes, Jess?”

“I hope you stay.”

Lucy found herself smiling. “I hope I do, too.”

* * *

“Where are you going?”

Lucy peered over the rail to see Kevin watching as the captain brought down some luggage.

“I’m going back to Vienna.”

“But you just got here! You need to help me with my model plane!”

“I’m sorry.” Captain Flynn crouched down so that he was eye level with Kevin. He really was quite tall, Lucy noted. And standing in the warm light from the windows, his dark hair seemed to shine, his firm jaw highlighted…

Lucy swallowed, her throat oddly dry.

“When will you be back?”

Captain Flynn sighed. “I’m not sure. But I will be back. And I’ll have a surprise for you when I do, I think.”

Kevin scuffed his feet along the floor. “All right…”

The captain pulled Kevin into a hug, and Lucy’s heart felt like someone had wrapped a vice around it and squeezed tightly.

He was a good man. And these were good children.

If only he would stay with them.

* * *

Flynn wasn’t sure why he worried so much about it.

Any sort of material would do for a governess so long as it wasn’t so hideous as to embarrass him and his family while she was out in public with the children. There wasn’t any reason to spend time thinking about it. He might as well just give her some money to buy the material herself.

And yet…

He found himself, when next in the city to see Mason and Baroness Whitmore, going around to the fabric shops and seeing what there was. He found himself fingering the fabric, testing the feel of it, the thickness, and holding it up to the light.

Lucy would look good in light blue. She would look good in many colors, in fact, and it startled him to realize that he knew so intimately her skin tone, her eye color, the shade of her hair, in order to pair it with fabric colors.

He chose a powder blue, a dark green that shone a little in the light, and a rich burgundy, then bundled it all up and had it sent to the house along with a package of sweets for Iris and Kevin, a book on engineering for Rufus, a paint set for Jiya and a copy of Keats poetry for Jess.

And then he tried to put the whole thing out of his head.

* * *

Baroness Emma Whitmore was not the kind of person with whom Flynn could fall in love.

He wasn’t even sure what sort of person he did fall in love with. There had been the boy he’d loved in childhood, and then Lorena, and now… well. Each time, it had struck him suddenly, like lightning, and he’d been left reeling.

Emma—she wasn’t lightning. But she was his friend. And his children needed a mother, and she needed a man who, well.

A man who understood that her affections would never lie with him, or any other man.

Flynn had bonded with her in his grief, and she’d been a good friend to him, supporting him. She hosted glittering parties, had a ready wit and a great intelligence, she was well-read, and had a wicked sense of humor. Flynn had kept her secret, and teased her about her parade of girlfriends, and she’d been the friend that he’d needed to help drag him, kicking and screaming, out of his grief and into something… something he could better manage.

It was time. Jess and Jiya were getting older and needed a positive woman in their lives. Flynn needed someone to help run the household. And he couldn’t handle five kids alone, give them all the attention they deserved by himself.

“I was thinking,” Flynn said, “that it was time you met the children.”

Emma snorted. “They’re going to hate me.”

“No, they won’t.” Flynn looked over at where Connor Mason was fiddling with something on the fireplace mantlepiece. “Especially if their beloved Uncle Mason came with us.”

Mason was an old friend and an English industrialist. He had been good friends with Mrs. Carlin, and had loved her boys, but he was unable to take care of children, and so Flynn had taken Rufus and Kevin in until they were older and could join Mason in England.

Mason gave a huge put-upon sigh. “Oh, I suppose I could join…”

Flynn grinned at him.

When he got Emma and Mason to the house, however… there was no sign of the children.

“Karl?” Flynn called.

The butler appeared almost immediately. Flynn gestured. “Where are the children?”

“Out on the lake, sir.”

“Out on the—” Iris couldn’t swim!

Flynn tore through the house to the back porch, where the mansion looked out over a gorgeous lake.

Sure enough, in a boat were the five children, with that governess standing up on the prow, reciting history at them.

“So then Anne Boleyn—” Lucy cut herself off as she wobbled, losing her balance.

Flynn had a moment to think that she looked annoyingly lovely in her light blue dress, the fabric almost the same color as the lake, and then a moment to realize that it was one of the fabrics he’d sent her—and then Lucy went tumbling into the water.

She surfaced almost at once, spluttering with laughter, as the children all laughed and Rufus and Jiya helped her back up onto the boat, getting it all up onto shore.

This was not how he’d expected them to be when he got back. There was a schedule, there was supposed to be order, they were supposed…

“Tata!” Iris yelled, barreling up to him.

The other children trooped up behind, more aware that they might be in trouble. They were covered in water and mud.

Flynn automatically hugged Iris, then looked at Lucy as she came up, her blue dress clinging to her in ways that…

Ah. Well.

“Go on inside,” he told the children. “You’re going to meet the Baroness and I want you looking your best. Rufus, Kevin, Mason is here, I’m sure he’s anxious to see you.”

The kids all hurried inside, glancing back worriedly at Lucy as they did so.

Flynn glared at her. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Playing with the children,” Lucy replied, refusing to be cowed. “Just what do you think you’re doing? I assume you’re home for two days and then off again for however many weeks?”

Flynn gaped at her. “You—I—you—”

Lucy looked him over, from head to toe, and Flynn felt burned by her gaze—not only by the intensity but by the disapproval he saw there, scorching him, branding him. “You know, when my sister died, my mother threw herself into working with a branch of the National Socialist party.”

Flynn stared at her, confused as to why she was discussing this.

Lucy squared her shoulders. “She couldn’t handle her grief. So she pulled away from me. She threw herself into something else. And I was left alone. I was abandoned. And she never understood—how she was putting this other thing before me, and why it made me so upset. Even as she died… her last words to me were that she wished she’d gotten into the party sooner so that I could have grown up in it. Her last words, and they were about how she wished I had joined this—this awful—this exclusionist—cult.

“I know, captain, that you do not agree with the National Socialists. I know that you do not stand with them. But you are still doing what my mother did. You are throwing yourself into something else and you are pulling away from your children when they need you the most!”

“Miss Preston, I did not come here for you to lecture me, you are my governess—”

“Exactly!” Lucy snapped. “I am the one taking care of your children when it should be you! They need you, Flynn, they need you—Kevin feels so overlooked, and Rufus is so smart and needs someone to talk to him about these things and I’m good at history but not engineering and I can’t keep up but I know that you could—and Jess is becoming a woman and you’re not even going to recognize her one day—”

“I am not going to listen to this—”

“Oh yes you are!” Lucy bellowed with every fiber of her body.

Flynn blinked, taken aback.

“Did you know that Rufus and Jiya are in love?” Lucy asked. “They’re terrified of telling you. And Iris, she doesn’t say much but she would say so much for you, I can see her storing up things that I tell her about history and I know she just wants to tell them all to you so you can see what she learns and she just wants to be loved, you have to love them Flynn and they’re not feeling it right now, I know you and I know you love them but they can’t see it and—”

Flynn had not expected to be feeling some kind of way about this brunette a whole foot shorter than he was yelling at him at the top of her furious lungs but here he was, feeling… quite a lot of things.

“I think you’ve made your point quite clear, Miss Preston,” he snapped, feeling his face heating up—feeling all of him heating up—and turning to go.

“I’m not finished, Captain!” Lucy snapped.

“Oh yes you are, Captain!” Flynn snapped right back, whipping around to glare at her.

Lucy bit her lip, stifling a laugh, and he realized what he’d said.

“…Miss Preston,” he amended.

“Please stay,” she said, her voice softer now. “I know—I know you’re just hurting. I know what it is, to—”

“Do you?” Flynn asked, his voice oddly raw. “Do you know what it is to lose the person you thought you would spend the rest of your life with? The parent of your children? The person you held in your arms every night as you fell asleep, the person you thought more beautiful than anyone, the person you’d cross oceans just to make them smile—do you know?”

“No,” Lucy replied, still looking him in the eye, still not backing down. “Every grief is different. But I do know what it is to lose a mother. And those children have lost their mother and they have carried that for two years and they shouldn’t have to carry it anymore. Not alone.”

Lucy started to walk past him, then paused, turning back. The action nearly put them chest to chest, and Flynn found that he had to force himself to take a step back, away from her.

“You deserve to grieve,” Lucy said, quietly. “You don’t get to use it to burn down everything else around you. You have to rebuild.”

Then she turned and walked into the house, her head held high, as regal as any queen.

* * *

Lucy heard it as she walked out of her room, having changed after her accidental swim.

“_Kiša pada, trava raste, gora zelena…_”

She paused, then tiptoed quietly down the hall, following the voice. It was deep and a bit rough, but soothing.

“_U toj gori, raste drvo, tanko visoko_…”

Lucy peered around the doorway.

Flynn was sitting on a chair, Iris in his lap, Kevin sitting at his feet with his head on Flynn’s knee. The look on the children’s faces… Lucy’s heart seized up and she nearly burst into tears, and she couldn’t even have said exactly why.

The look on Flynn’s face, though. That was sheer adoration.

“Tata?” Iris whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Will you be here tonight?”

“Yes. I’ll be staying, now.”

“And you’ll check for monsters under my bed? Lucy checks but I want you to. She isn’t as big and strong as you are.”

“Lucy seems very strong,” Flynn replied. “I wouldn’t underestimate her. But of course. I’ll check for monsters every night.”

Lucy slipped away, wiping at her eyes as she hurried softly down the stairs to check on the other children.

* * *

“You have to have the children sing at the annual festival,” Mason announced that evening over coffee.

Flynn rolled his eyes. “Connor. I’m not putting my children on display.”

“But they would love it! It would be fun for them.”

“And there’s nothing in it whatsoever for you.”

“Well, the festival is to help promote my business…”

“Exactly.”

“Why not have them perform at our engagement party?” Emma suggested. “As a happy medium.”

“You’re having an engagement party?” Mason said, eyebrows raising.

Flynn hadn’t had any sort of party in his house since Lorena’s passing. The ballroom had been her favorite, and the two of them would whirl around together, when no one else was around, laughing and holding each other and just… being together. Being in love together.

Could he really open the ballroom up again?

But Lucy had been right. He had become selfish in his grief. He could never forget Lorena, but he had to move forward. For his children, if nothing else.

“If you want that,” he said, looking at Emma. “I think it would be a smart idea.”

“I’ll make all the arrangements,” Emma promised. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“You know me too well.”

As she left, Mason drew closer. “Flynn. You know that if you hold a party… the sort of people who propriety will insist you invite.”

A growl worked its way out of his throat before he could stop it. “I know.” He lowered his voice. “The party is increasing pressure on me to join them. My wealth through Lorena, my military background, my position of… authority… I suppose it rankles them that I stand against them. They want me to give in.”

“You can’t.”

“And I won’t. But it’s only a matter of time—until things come to a head.”

Mason sighed. “I must leave, soon.” He gestured at himself. “I am not German or Austrian, and, well. I’m not white. This country is growing increasingly hostile.”

“I’d send Rufus and Kevin with you but—Rufus won’t want to leave Jiya and Kevin is still so young—”

“No, no, keep them with you for now. But if the time comes… you’ll have a home in England.” Mason cleared his throat. “I’ll leave after the festival.”

Flynn nodded.

Mason turned, took a sip of his coffee, then paused. “Garcia.”

Ah, his first name. This was serious.

“You and Emma have an arrangement and I respect that. But I couldn’t help but notice…” He paused. “Don’t overlook a chance at happiness simply because it’s unexpected.”

Flynn swallowed. He didn’t have to ask what Mason meant. He knew.

As if she’d been summoned, Lucy appeared. She was wearing a dress made of the green fabric that he’d sent her, her hair gently pulled back and curling around her shoulders.

Flynn’s heart skipped a beat.

“The children are ready for bed, Flynn,” she said. “If you want to say goodnight.”

He nodded. “I’ll…” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be right up.”

Lucy nodded, gave a smile to Mason, and turned to go.

“Miss Preston?”

She looked back.

“Jiya informs me that you have a great love of history. I wanted—I wanted you to know, in case you haven’t—my office has a great collection of history books, if you want to read them—they’re yours to take.”

Lucy looked startled, her eyes going wide, and then smiled tentatively. “Thank you, Flynn. I—thank you.”

Mason gave him the most knowing look ever as Lucy walked away.

“Oh shut up,” Flynn growled, downing his coffee. “She hates me.”

Mason snorted. “Whatever you say.”

* * *

Lucy smoothed her hands over her dress, then nervously patted her hair. Jess had done it for her, and Lucy was… unsure.

“You look amazing,” Jess assured her.

“You just want to flatter me so I cover for you while you sneak out to see Wyatt.”

“Oh, huh, I’d say it anyway.” Jess paused. “But can I?”

“For one hour. That’s it.”

Jess kissed her on the cheek and then hurried out the bedroom door.

Lucy took a deep breath. She had never been to a fancy party like this before and she was sure that she’d stick out like a sore thumb. She loved the burgundy fabric of her dress and she thought the cut was rather flattering, with the short layered sleeves reminding her of butterfly wings and the gauzy fabric of the skirt swished as she walked.

But would it be good enough for a party like this? With the crème de la crème of Austrian society?

Only one way to find out.

Lucy made her way down the stairs, smiling and nodding at the people around her, recognizing no one.

“Lucy!”

Rufus took her arm. “Thank God, someone with an actual brain around here.”

“Where’s Jiya?”

“Using the tarot to foretell doom for the Nazi party.” Rufus paused. “That’s the new nickname they have.”

Lucy drew him to her. Rufus had shot up in the last week and was now taller than she was, if a bit gangly still, but she felt a protectiveness over him that she dared to call somewhat maternal. As the power of the party grew, she worried increasingly for her two boys, and for Jiya with her Lebanese heritage.

“Let’s find Kevin, shall we?”

Rufus nodded, and led her through the party.

Kevin was with Iris, the two of them dancing on the back patio, imitating the adults swirling around the ballroom. Lucy’s heart carried an exquisite ache as she looked up at the chandelier, seeing the room lit up and used for the first time in so long.

“Lucy!” Kevin grabbed her as she walked up with Rufus. “Dance with me?”

“Well of course, I would be delighted. But first you have to bow.”

Kevin bowed.

“And then I will curtsy.” She did so. “Now, you take my hands…”

They did the first few steps, Kevin doing his best to keep up, as Lucy did her best to help him.

“Kevin,” Lucy laughed, as the boy was still too short for his arms to help turn her, “we’ll have to practice, I think.”

“Here.” A large, slightly roughened hand took hers. “Allow me.”

Lucy turned and stared up into Flynn’s face. Before she could say anything, or even do more than struggle to inhale, he was taking her other hand and moving smoothly with her down the marbled floor.

His face was… serious, as it always was, but Lucy thought she saw in his eyes a softness, no, a lightness, that wasn’t often there. The corner of his mouth twitched upward as he led her back down the other way, and Lucy could feel her face heating up as an answering smile curled her lips. He twirled her, and she twirled, until she wasn’t sure if she was spinning or the earth itself was, until the only grounding thing were his hands, his grip, keeping her solid.

He turned her a final time, his hand still in hers but his arm around the back of her waist, pressing her chest to his, and they turned, step by step…

Lucy felt something inside of her cracking open, something deep and unshakable, something that had been growing for weeks but now bloomed all at once, filling every part of her, until she nearly cried not out of sadness but out of realization, feeling sweeping over her like a summer storm.

Flynn paused, staring down into her face, his eyes warm and dark and full of awe, and he looked—he looked how she felt, and Lucy didn’t dare think anything, didn’t dare hope anything, and they were standing still, pressed together, faces only inches away, Flynn only an inch or two away—

His gaze dropped down and then swept back up again, as if he could see all the way through her, into the deepest, softest heart of her, and Lucy nearly sank to the floor. She was—and Flynn was—and he couldn’t, not really—she was the silly governess to his children, she was the girl who snuck into his library and read his history books, she was nothing, she wasn’t sophisticated or well born or—

Lucy stepped back, releasing his hands, and Flynn released hers in turn. “I—I don’t remember the steps,” she breathed, her voice broken and shaking.

“Your face is all red,” Iris noted.

“Is it?” Lucy couldn’t seem to look away from Flynn even though she wanted to—no, no she didn’t want to, but she needed to, had to— “I suppose I’m not used to dancing.”

Flynn gave her one of those little half-smiles, still staring at her, and Lucy…

She took Iris’s hand, blurted out some excuse she couldn’t even remember, and fled back into the party.

* * *

Flynn stared after Lucy as she all but fled. In that dark red, with her hair piled up, she looked—she looked—

“Everything all right?” Emma asked, walking up to him. She followed his gaze. “She is very lovely. I’d speak to her, if I thought I had a chance.”

“You might have one.” A better chance that he did, anyway. He had done half a dance with her and Lucy had fled. Clearly she wasn’t… she didn’t…

It didn’t matter.

He had crossed a line, a boundary, made her uncomfortable. He should never have indulged himself in dancing with her.

Emma stiffened. “It’s your favorite politicians,” she muttered. “I ought to make myself scarce.”

Flynn turned, and saw some of the… local leaders of the Nazi party walking towards him. “I couldn’t help but notice,” Zeller, one of the most adamant about accepting Nazi rule, “that you have the Austrian flag flying in your house, as opposed to the flag of the party.”

“I am flying the flag of my adopted country,” Flynn replied. “I wasn’t aware that was a problem. In fact some would consider it patriotic.”

“Change is coming, Captain,” Zeller replied gravely. “You can accept it, or try to swim upstream.”

“I’m a good swimmer.”

“I hear that your children are rather musically talented. You ought to be teaching them German songs.”

Flynn raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure that if the Germans do have need, you’ll be the entire trumpet section.”

He turned and began to walk away.

“You flatter me, captain.”

Flynn paused, anger boiling underneath his skin, and turned back, managing a small, dry smile. “Oh, how clumsy of me. I meant to accuse you.”

He left Zeller gaping in fury.

* * *

Lucy trembled, sinking down onto the bed. Oh God, oh God, what was she supposed to do—to be in love with her boss, her employer, a man who was going to be married to someone else—

There was a brisk knock on the door. “Miss Preston?”

It was the baroness.

Lucy opened the door. “Yes?”

“May I come in?”

Lucy nodded, opening the door for her. The baroness was a regal redhead, dressed in the latest fashions from Vienna, and Lucy could easily see why Flynn loved her. She was an intelligent and imposing woman, the sort of woman that belonged in a house like this, the wife of a man who was a pillar in his community.

The baroness smiled, looking around the room. “Charming.” She looked at Lucy, dragging her gaze over her, and Lucy flushed. “As are you in that dress. You’re a vision.”

“Thank you.”

“No wonder the captain couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”

Lucy froze.

The baroness tilted her head, looking at her. “You seem upset.”

“I—no. I’m fine.”

“…Miss Preston. Lucy. May I call you Lucy?”

Lucy nodded.

“I think you’re… misunderstanding the nature of… of my relationship with Flynn—”

It felt as though she couldn’t breathe. “Please leave,” she blurted out.

The baroness looked… disappointed. “All right. If that’s what you want. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She closed the door behind her.

Lucy shoved everything into her bag. Not her lovely new dresses, though. The abbey would make her give them up, and she couldn’t bear that. She and Jess were of the same height—Jess could have them. She’d love them.

She couldn’t do this—she could hardly think, she was—she was in too deep, the walls felt like they were closing in around her, and she couldn’t—she couldn’t breathe—

She scribbled a hasty note for the children, telling them she loved them, and then slipped out while everyone was still at the party.

She ran the entire way to the abbey.

* * *

Emma took Flynn’s arm as he wound his way through the ballroom to get a glass to clink, so that he could make the announcement.

“Flynn.” Emma looked a little upset.

“Emma. Everything all right?”

“I think I made things more difficult for you.” She held out a note.

It was in Lucy’s writing.

“She’s fled. I tried—I don’t think she wanted to hear from me.”

Flynn handed the note back. “It’s for the best. And it wasn’t your fault.” It was his. He had been inappropriate, he had overstepped—

“Flynn.” Emma gave him a fond if frustrated smile. “Don’t announce our engagement.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because somewhere out there is a young lady who… well… she’ll never become a nun.”

Flynn stared at her. “What?”

Emma gave him a sardonic look, flattening out her lips and raising an eyebrow.

But did that mean—he hadn’t thought—Lucy would never, could never, he had never had a single hope or a thought that she would be able to love him in return.

Emma sighed. “We want different things, Garcia. If it was just the two of us I know that we would make it work but it’s not, it’s the children too, and they and I don’t… get along. And you love her. So.” Emma shrugged. “I’ll have someone else proposing to me in no time.”

“But will he be as understanding.”

“He will be. Or I won’t say yes.”

“Emma… she doesn’t…”

“Go after her,” Emma said sternly. “But first get me some wine, I need to get properly drunk.”

Well, he could do that much.

* * *

Flynn didn’t go after her.

How could he? How could he possibly? What was he supposed to say? _My now-former fiancée thinks that you’re in love with me and so here I am?_

No. No, he would—he would never—she had left. She could not have been more clear about wanting to be out of their lives, about needing space, and he was not going to intrude on that or violate her boundaries.

His children, on the other hand, had been pestering the abbey every single day.

He had to get stern with them and tell them that if Lucy was in seclusion, she was in seclusion, and they had to respect that.

Which led to a week of moping from all five of them.

Flynn was ready to bang his head against a wall. He was also—almost—ready to go to the abbey himself and beg Lucy, on his knees if necessary, to come out for a short while, just a few minutes, even, if only to speak to the children.

But he couldn’t go and bother her after he’d told the children to cut it out.

So he simply… did what he could to distract himself. Fighting with Zeller and the others over the political situation took up plenty of time.

And if he was distracted every time he was in his office and his eyes fell on a history book, or whenever he saw dark red, such as in his wine, or every time he heard the strum of a guitar… well.

He would be fine.

* * *

Lucy started at the knock on the door. “I don’t wish to be disturbed.”

“And yet, sometimes, our wishes cannot be fulfilled,” Denise replied, opening the door.

Lucy started to her feet, her knees protesting after so long kneeling. “Reverend Mother—”

“The children were at the abbey again today.”

Lucy closed her eyes, her stomach twisting and tightening. “I told them in my letter, it wasn’t their fault. It has nothing to do with them.”

“They don’t see it that way. They want you back.” Denise sighed. “Lucy, why did you leave?”

Lucy swallowed. “I… he… Captain Flynn, I… he’s the most obstinate, stubborn, cranky man alive and he takes forever to change his mind about something and he bottles up his emotions because he feels like he can’t inflict them on anyone and he’s got a martyr syndrome a mile wide and—and I—and he—”

She could feel herself tearing up.

Denise walked over and pulled her into her arms. “Lucy. You have heard, no doubt, of my closeness with one of the sisters in this cloister.”

Lucy nodded.

“Do you think that was always easy?”

Lucy shook her head.

“The hardest thing, for me, was understanding that I was allowed to have it. That I was… deserving of such love. Especially when you’ve had people who loved you taken away. It can make you afraid to seize that love again, because it could be ripped from you.” Denise pulled back and gently took her by the shoulders. “But my dear. It’s better to have them and lose them than to never have them at all. And you’re already miserable without them. Why not be with them? They love you, they miss you.”

Lucy struggled to keep her breathing even, but a sob slipped out anyway. Denise chuckled and hugged her again. “Go to them. Let yourself be happy.”

* * *

Jess snuck onto the back patio, returning from seeing Wyatt. They’d argued again, about the Hitler Youth, and Wyatt sticking with them. Wyatt didn’t see any other choice, with his awful father, but Jess disagreed.

They’d been going back and forth for weeks now.

As she slipped back onto the grounds, she found that the patio wasn’t empty. Rufus and Jiya were curled up together on a bench, Jiya’s head on Rufus’s shoulder, their hands intertwined.

“She wouldn’t just abandon us. She wouldn’t. She loved us.”

“Yeah, well, maybe she had to go. Mom didn’t want to go either but she did. Maybe the abbey called her back or something.”

“But you’d think—she just left a note, who just leaves a note?”

Rufus kissed Jiya’s forehead. “I don’t know, my love, I just know she wouldn’t want to hurt us.”

“Yeah, well, she did anyway, whether she wanted to or not.”

Jess sighed, then straightened up and walked over. “You two okay?”

They nodded. Jiya jerked her chin towards one of the patio chairs, and Jess turned to see Iris curled up into a sad little ball.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Jess walked over and picked her up. “C’mere, would you like me to sing to you? Like Lucy would?”

Iris nodded.

She had been only three when her mother had died. Jess was sure that Iris didn’t really remember Lorena terribly clearly—she remembered her love, and the fear and pain of being sick, and the feeling of a great loss. But Jess had watched as that void had been filled by Lucy, as Lucy had become the mother that Iris needed, needed in a way that the rest of them didn’t. Not that none of them needed a mother but… in a different way.

“All right.” Jess sat down. “She taught me this one, Wyatt loves it when I sing it.” She cleared her throat. Her voice wasn’t as good as Lucy’s, in her own personal opinion—too husky. But Lucy said it was lovely. “_You made me love you. I didn’t want to do it, I didn’t want to do it. You made me want you, and all the time you knew it, I guess you always knew it…_”

“_Gimme, gimme, gimme, what I cry for…_”

Jess stopped. Had she imagined that?

“_You know you’ve got the brand of kisses that I’d die for,_” she sang, as another voice sang too, harmonizing, a voice that she recognized—

Iris gasped, sitting up straight. “Lucy!” she cried.

She wriggled out of Jess’s lap and sprinted towards the woman walking across the lawn towards them.

“Lucy!” Iris kept yelling. “Lucy, Lucy, Lucy!”

Lucy crouched down and caught Iris, hugging her tightly. “Oh, hello darling, I missed you!”

“I missed you—you can’t ever leave again.” Iris clamped down on Lucy, holding tightly.

Jiya jumped to her feet. “You left!” she snapped, accusing, her eyes damp.

Lucy walked up, hoisting Iris into her arms so that Iris could wrap her arms around Lucy’s neck. “I know. I’m sorry. I had to—I had to sort some things out. But I’m back now, and I’ll stay. I promise.”

Jiya wiped at her eyes. “Well. I suppose if you promised.”

“Lucy!” Kevin burst out of the house and ran to her, wrapping his arms around her.

Lucy laughed. “Well. It’s good to know I was missed.”

“You were,” Rufus said, firmly.

“You were,” another voice added.

Jess jumped a little, turning to see Father standing there. He was staring at Lucy in… well, in the same way he’d used to stare at Mother. Not quite the same way, just as he didn’t stare at Rufus the same way he stared at Kevin. But it was the same kind of love.

Jess had to work hard to hold in her smirk. “Look, Father,” she said. “Lucy’s back just in time for dinner.”

She’d work hard to bundle the other four off to bed early that evening.

She had a feeling she knew, now, why Lucy had left. And, possibly, why she’d come back.

* * *

Lucy hadn’t wanted to wear the burgundy dress ever again. Not when it only served to remind her of that night. Of how she’d stood there in dreadful realization, and of the way she’d hoped Flynn was looking at her.

But Jess had insisted that she put it on for dinner. “You must. You look so beautiful in it, and we’re celebrating your return.”

“This is just so that I’ll put in a good word with your father about Wyatt.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

So she had worn it, was wearing it still, as she stepped out onto the back porch to gaze out over the lake in the moonlight.

It was beautiful out here in the garden. The perfect place for some quiet solitude.

Or, in other words, the perfect place to cry.

She had come back for the children. And she was going to stay for them, because they needed someone. But it was so hard, knowing that Flynn was marrying someone else. She hadn’t seen the Baroness all that evening but Lucy was sure that she wouldn’t be gone long. Flynn would marry her and Lucy would just… just…

“You left without saying goodbye,” Flynn murmured.

Lucy jumped, spinning around. “I—I didn’t hear you come up.”

“I’m sorry.” Flynn winced. “I thought you heard me coming. I saw you walk out of the house—did you want to be alone?”

Yes. No. “It’s—it’s all right.”

Flynn indicated a bench. “Please, sit.”

He looked oddly… well it was hard to tell in the moonlight but he looked nervous. Embarrassed, even.

Lucy sat down on the bench, nearly jumping out of her skin when Flynn sat next to her. “I keep puzzling over two questions.”

Lucy stared at him. “Oh?”

“Why did you leave, and why did you come back?” Flynn tilted his head, his eyes dark and unfathomable in the muted lighting.

“Well—I abandoned the children. And I realized that was wrong of me. So I came back. I love them, Captain, I really do. It was hurtful of me to just leave them like that.”

“And what was the… only reason?”

“No—yes,” Lucy quickly corrected herself. What was Flynn trying to get at?

Flynn stared at her for a long moment. “Lucy. I. The engagement between myself and the Baroness was called off.”

Lucy started a little, something she didn’t dare acknowledge fluttering to life in her chest. “…oh? I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I—wait, you’re sorry?” Flynn looked alarmed.

“Well—you two were so—you seemed to suited for one another, you seemed excited.”

Flynn looked out across the garden, looking like a man about to step in front of a firing squad. “Perhaps we were. We were good friends. And she was there for me when I felt abandoned and alone. But.” Lucy could see his entire body moving as he took in a deep breath. “But it’s rather unfair to marry a person when you’re in love with someone else.”

Lucy felt her entire body go still.

Flynn turned to look at her, and Lucy almost sobbed—with joy, with relief, with things she couldn’t even begin to name—as she took in the unbearably soft look she found etched into his face.

Did he always look at her like that? If so, she had never noticed before. Or perhaps he had hidden it from her, or she hadn’t known how to see it.

But now—now he was looking at her with this deep, unending well of devotion and she didn’t know what to do with that, what could anyone do with that, how could she possibly—

Flynn seemed to take her silence as answer enough, and not in a positive way. His gaze grew shuttered, and he looked down. “I… forgive me, I—”

Lucy launched herself forward, taking his face in her hands and kissing him.

Flynn gently curled his fingers under her chin, tilting her face up, shifting the angle of the kiss as his other hand wrapped around her waist to pull her to him. Lucy went eagerly, moving into his lap, as they kissed as if fevered, as if possessed, until her hands were tangled in his hair and is arms were around her and she never wanted to leave this moment, this point of pure joy, not ever again.

At last she pulled back just enough to gulp in some air, and Flynn took her hands in his, kissing her knuckles. He looked up and her, and oh, it was as if she’d hung the stars, the way he was gazing at her. She didn’t know—she had done nothing, really, to earn that devoted look on his face, but she never wanted it to leave, either. She was selfish and greedy and she wanted his love forever.

Flynn brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. “I don’t know what… what I did in my past to deserve you, but I’m grateful for it.” He gave a wry smile. “It must have been something good, whatever it was.”

Lucy understood the feeling and laughed softly, breathlessly. “I could say the same.”

“Nothing comes from nothing.” Flynn dropped his hand, wrapping his arms around her again. Lucy pressed their foreheads together. “We’ll have to try to believe in such goodness, then.”

Lucy bumped his nose with hers. “Yes.”

“I love you.” Flynn said the words as if they simply couldn’t be held back anymore, as if he had planned to say them differently but they’d slipped out without thought or plan, insisting on being freed and heard by her. “I’d marry you now, if you could find a priest this late.”

Lucy burst into hysterical giggles. It all felt too much—after being alone and losing everyone, to now have someone who loved her like this, to have a family again, to feel this way and to have it be reciprocated. “I love you,” she whispered, a guilty secret—but no longer guilty, and no longer needing to be kept a secret. “I loved you… I think since that stupid whistle, but I realized it when you danced with me.”

“From the moment I saw you.” Flynn’s voice was grave, like he was speaking a universal truth, explaining the laws of gravity. “I just never thought—I never imagined that you could feel the same.”

Lucy kissed him again. And again. And again after that. Her hands itched to roam, her body was aching, hot all over, and she could feel his arms around her and his chest against her but she wanted so much more.

“Touch me,” she whispered, tilting her head back so that Flynn could kiss her neck, making her squirm. “Please, Garcia…”

Flynn nipped at her skin, whispering her name, as if he just had to, like a man at prayer. “Lucy.”

She clutched at him, rolling her hips. She’d never done more than exchanged a few kisses, and chaste ones at that, holding hands perhaps, but she’d had her hands full with Amy and Mother and then she’d been in the abbey…

But now, now she felt like she was melting, heating up all over, she wanted to chase it, get more and more and more—

“Greedy,” Flynn teased, his hand sliding down her body. He paused, his hand on her thigh. “Lucy—we should wait until—”

“Either you find us a priest right now,” Lucy hissed, “or you do something about the state I’m in, Garcia, it’s up to you.”

“I—I don’t want to be—improper about it.”

Lucy pulled back to look him in the eye. “Garcia. Please. I love you, I want you, I don’t want to wait, not another second, _please_.”

Flynn reached up, cupping her cheek, his thumb rubbing in slow, small circles. “I have dreamed of you,” he whispered. “But I want to—do this properly.”

“If you want to wait—”

“No,” Flynn blurted out. “I just—no. If you—”

Lucy kissed him. “I’m sure, Flynn, I want you, please.”

At last—at _last_—he slid his hand back down between her legs, to where she was slick and aching, pushing the fabric of her dress up and exposing her thighs to the slightly chill air.

Lucy whimpered, clutched at his shoulder, the back of his head, as Flynn sucked kisses into her neck and spread her thighs a bit wider. She tried not to squirm as Flynn dipped his hand underneath her underwear, stroking through her folds.

She’d touched herself here of course, had brought herself to pleasure alone in her bed growing up, but it wasn’t nearly the same as having another person touch her, as having _Flynn _touch her.

“That’s it,” Flynn murmured, rubbing his thumb right up against the spot that had her arching and gasping. “I’ve got you, darling. Let go, take what you want.”

Lucy grabbed onto his wrist, nails digging in, feeling him stroking his fingers into her. Oh, God, she was so wet and he was touching her—inside her, curling, thrusting, hitting—hitting just the right—oh, oh, _oh_—

“Beautiful,” Flynn whispered in her ear as she shuddered. “Beautiful, my darling, my angel, beautiful.”

Lucy sagged against him, resting her forehead on his shoulder. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand up, wasn’t sure that her legs would be able to hold her.

He’d just have to carry her to bed, then.

“Garcia.” She turned her face, kissing his neck. Flynn gave a full-bodied shudder, his grip on her tightening. “Fuck me.”

“…have you ever…” Flynn sounded hesitant to say it out loud, a gentleman to the end.

Lucy shook her head, pulling back and raising her head up to look at him. “No. I was never… I was a bit withdrawn. I never had anyone… no.”

“Perhaps—”

“Garcia Flynn, if you tell me that I have to wait, I’ll take care of things myself, and I’ll make sure you can hear me while you do it.”

Flynn gaped at her for a second in wild shock, and then gave her a grin that seemed to split his face. “You really are incorrigible.”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

“No.” He softly kissed her jaw. “I wouldn’t.”

Their noses brushed, and Flynn rested their foreheads together. “After… after I lost Lorena, I didn’t know what to do. I was lost. And I thought… I prayed to God for answers. And at first I thought He had led me to Vienna. But now I know—He led me to you.”

Lucy kissed him properly then, soft and long and deep, because how—how could she not?

“Take me to bed, please,” she whispered.

Flynn, at last, seemed to lose the last of his resolve. He swept her up and Lucy shrieked in surprise, clutching at him.

“Your legs seemed a little wobbly,” he said. The little shit.

Lucy kissed him in retaliation, playing with the hair at the back of his head, tangling her fingers in it. Flynn carried her, though, all the way back to the house and up the stairs.

It was… impressive, Lucy had to admit.

“When I first saw you in this dress,” Flynn said, carefully setting her down so he could close the door.

Lucy had never been in the master bedroom before. Any other time she’d want to perhaps look around at the décor.

Right now, all she cared about was the deliciously large bed.

“I remember getting the fabric for it,” she admitted. “I thought—it was—you didn’t have to do that for me. I think I fell a little bit in love with you then. But I didn’t know until—until we danced. Then I realized.”

“When you yelled at me at the lake,” Flynn replied, smoothing his hands over her dress. “That was when I knew.”

“You never said—”

“I thought you couldn’t possibly—”

“I thought you’d never—”

Flynn laughed and kissed her. She loved his laugh, soft and rolling like waves. She wanted to make it happen all the time.

They stumbled a bit getting to the bed, as they tried to kiss, undo each other’s clothes, and move all at the same time. Lucy laughed, biting Flynn’s lip and tugging playfully, shivering in anticipation as she brushed up against his cock with her knuckles while undoing his pants.

Flynn finally yanked her dress up over her head, then playfully tossed her onto the bed with a growl. Lucy crawled backwards to give him room to join her, finishing getting his shirt off as she did so, leaving them both finally, gloriously skin to skin.

Lucy lost track of which way was up as they rolled, a tangle of limbs, Flynn’s mouth at her breasts, his hands on her stomach, between her legs again, spanning her face as he moved up to kiss her throat, her jaw, her mouth—her hands in his hair, at his shoulders, digging into his back and chest, feeling his muscles jump underneath her touch. She was smearing slick all over his leg as she ground against him, feeling greedy, wanting all of him now that she’d been allowed a taste, but Flynn just groaned and kissed her, touched her, all the more enthusiastically.

At last she ended up half on top of him, clutching at his shoulders, panting into his mouth as Flynn slid one, then two fingers into her. She was still loose from her orgasm and they weren’t nearly enough, leaving her squirming and gasping Flynn’s name, _Garcia Garcia Garcia _until he was having to kiss the words from her lips in case she grew too loud and woke up one of the children.

She felt a quick flash of shame as he pulled his fingers away. She’d never—well. She’d been so alone, after losing her family, and she hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone, hadn’t wanted to get close to anyone. In theory she had nothing against growing intimate with one of the other nuns—women were just as beautiful to her as men—but her heart hadn’t even opened up enough for friendship, never mind anything further.

Which was fine, but it meant she didn’t know how… she couldn’t reciprocate with the skill that Flynn had given her.

She could only hope that she would—pass muster.

But faint heart never won fair… anything, so she slid her hand down, wrapping it around his cock and stroking, exploring, seeing what made Flynn grunt and groan, what made him jerk his hips up into her touch.

“Lucy—” Flynn grabbed her wrist. “You—”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Why are you apologizing?” Flynn’s gaze was soft. “I only—it’s been a while.” She realized that he was blushing. “And you are…” His other hand came up to stroke her hair back from her face. “You are all that I had dreamed of, for some time.”

…oh.

Flynn kissed her nose and Lucy felt her self-consciousness fading away. Flynn loved her. He wanted her. They’d work through anything else.

“If you want to be on top, it’ll be easier,” Flynn murmured, kissing up her jaw.

Tempting, but… “No, I want—I want your weight on me.” She wanted to feel held, to feel every inch of him up against her, just this once.

Flynn kissed her, then swung his leg up over her, settling them properly. Lucy lost herself in another kiss, focusing on that to ignore the instinctive panic she felt as he started to slide into her, that thought of _maybe this won’t work, maybe he won’t fit, I’ve made a terrible mistake_.

Flynn was patient, holding her, kissing her, going inch by inch until she felt like she could feel him in the back of her throat.

“You all right, _moja draga_?” Flynn drew his nose up the column of her throat, then nipped at the skin.

Lucy nodded. It was—well. She felt full, stretched out, and there was a bit of an edge of pain, like a blurry edge to a watercolor painting, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle.

“Should I start moving?”

Lucy nodded.

Flynn moved tentatively, and at first she had to bite her lip, feeling overwhelmed, the sensations similar to her fingers and yet more, different, at the same time. But then—then Flynn started to find a rhythm, and the edge of pain faded, morphed, and she started to feel that slick glide and pleasure began to spark—to drive her higher, higher—

Flynn kept shifting his angle minutely, listening to her as she gasped and whispered, letting her tell him what worked, what to do, a little higher, harder, there, there yes _there_—

He kept hitting that same angle when he found it, muffling his own noises in her neck as he picked up speed.

Lucy clawed at his skin, feeling the thin sheen of sweat, the roll of his muscles underneath the skin. She kept finding new ways to touch him, to tease him, with her mouth and her fingers, making him jolt and growl, and it was intoxicating. She wanted to stay like this, him fucking her, her exploring him, for hours and days and weeks. It felt so good—he felt so good inside her—

Flynn shifted up, bracing himself on one hand, his other sliding down between them, and Lucy had to clap a hand over her mouth as he rubbed at her clit, his fingers instantly slick with the both of them. White flashed in her eyes, her toes curled, and everything in her seemed to go hurtling off a cliff and seize up all in the same instant.

Flynn groaned, sounding helpless, wrecked, and she felt him coming inside of her, losing all finesse as he did so.

They collapsed together, and Flynn drew her into him, against his chest, his arms around her. He scattered kisses all over her face, asking her was it good for her, was she all right, telling her she was beautiful, perfection, and Lucy soaked it all up, feeling completely, utterly adored.

* * *

Being desperately in love with a man who desperately loved her back was a wonderful thing.

It was also an awful thing when the man she loved, and who loved her, had five children who couldn’t seem to give them ten minutes to themselves.

Take the time that they were about to fuck on his desk and Iris knocked on the door. Or when Flynn lifted her up against the library wall and she wrapped her legs around him, his mouth sweet and slick against hers, and then Jess barged in. Or the time that they were dancing alone together in the ballroom and she got up onto her toes and kissed leisurely, teasing little kisses down Flynn’s neck and he growled and was just about to shove a hand up her skirt when Rufus and Jiya entered, apparently wanting to do some dancing of their own.

It was maddening.

She would’ve liked to get married immediately, but there was always society, and family, and friends, and the whole… preparation and putting up the banns and all of that. So until then…

At last, she lost her patience, and the night before the wedding she slipped out of her bed and tiptoed across the hall.

“Wha…”

“It’s me,” Lucy whispered, sliding into bed and into Flynn’s waiting arms.

“_Moja draga_.” Flynn kissed her softly. “You know it’s bad luck…”

“For the groom to see the bride the day _of_ the wedding, not the night before.”

“I’m pretty sure it still applies…”

“Oh, well…” Lucy pulled away. “I can go, if you really want…”

Flynn tightened his hold on her and she laughed, drawing back in, kissing him. Already she could feel him swelling against her, and she arched her body, pushing his shirt up, smoothing her hands over his bare skin.

“Tata?”

Oh, shit.

Lucy quickly pulled away from Flynn and got her nightgown to cover her chest again as Iris slipped into the room.

“A nightmare?” Flynn asked as Iris scrambled over to the bed. She didn’t seem confused that Lucy was also there, instead just reaching for her, too.

Lucy’s heart just about broke. She loved these children, so much. “We’re here,” she promised Iris, holding her. “We’re here.”

They slept with Iris in between them, and then in the early dawn light, Lucy slipped away again to go and get ready.

She didn’t see Flynn again until the church.

Denise adjusted her veil, smiling at her with tearful pride. “You know if you ever need us—but I doubt you’ll have need.”

Lucy ducked her head down, feeling overwhelmed. She had been… scared, before. Afraid. Alone. Now she was about to officially join her new family. The family that loved her, that she had chosen, that chose her in return.

It was time.

Denise let her go and Lucy turned to see Iris, Jiya, and Jess standing there. The girls were all smiling—well, Jess was more smirking.

“Go on,” Denise said with a laugh.

Iris went down the aisle first, followed by Jiya… and then it was just Jess…

And then it was her turn.

Lucy took a deep breath, and walked down the aisle.

Flynn was standing at the front, looking at her like—like something out of a dream, like something he couldn’t believe was actually real. Like she was more… good than he could possibly deserve.

Lucy couldn’t see her face, but she knew she had the same expression on her face. She knew what he was thinking, because she was thinking the same thing.

Flynn reached out his hand, and she took it, kneeling, her head bowing.

She barely even heard the priest—all she was aware of was Flynn’s hand, rough and warm, holding hers.

* * *

Flynn loved his children, he really did.

But he was so beyond glad that he and Lucy were immediately departing for their honeymoon in Italy.

She’d looked a vision—still was a vision—in her white dress, the satin fabric hugging her curves and then fanning out around her, trailing behind her, making her look like a queen.

Mason was looking after the children—with a bit of help from a rather put-upon looking Karl—while they were gone.

“Have fun!” Jess said as they waved them off at the train station, her voice and smile a little too knowing for Flynn’s tastes. “Make good choices!”

“I should say the same to you, young lady,” Flynn replied.

Lucy only laughed and dragged him to their berth on the train.

Italy was beautiful, and Lucy was already in raptures about it as they arrived in Florence. Not over the rolling hills and the natural beauty, although there was plenty of gushing over that—but over the buildings, the history of it all. She was already filling Flynn in on the history of the basilica, the Ponte Vecchio, and Michelangelo.

“Would you like to go stroll through the city?” Flynn asked, after they had checked into the hotel.

Lucy stared at him. “What?”

“We could go walking through, it’s beautiful at night with all the lights on the river, find a restaurant…”

Lucy looked at him like he was insane. “No,” she said, her voice dropping a level. “You’re going to take me upstairs to our room.”

…oh.

Well then.

No elevator ride had ever taken so long. Lucy was practically vibrating against him.

The moment they got into the room, she was kissing him, her hands clutching at his jacket, struggling to get it off him, her mouth hot and insistent against his. Flynn deftly undid the buttons at the back of her dress and thanked the stars that he’d gotten practice by helping the girls with their dresses after Lorena’s death—otherwise he would’ve been completely out of practice.

He peeled the dress off Lucy, chuckling a little as she nearly ripped his clothes in her attempts to get them off him. “Easy, _moja ljubav_, we have time.”

“It’s been a month, Garcia,” Lucy replied, even as she let him pick her up and carry her to the bed. “A _month_.”

Flynn laid her down and then moved down her body, kissing her through the lace of her lingerie and then biting the bare skin of her stomach.

Lucy clutched at his hair, a small, desperate noise escaping her. “Garcia…”

“Shh. You’re right, it’s been a month.” Flynn dragged her underwear down, his nails scraping lightly across her thighs. “And you’ve been so very patient.” He kissed slowly back up her thighs, sucking a few little bruises here and there. “Let me make it up to you.”

Lucy sighed as he spread his hand across her thigh, pressing it down and out, giving himself more room as he bent his head down to lap at her.

He hadn’t gotten to do this yet—had been so eager that first night, and he had regretted ever since that he’d failed to do it then because every attempt after had been thwarted. But now…

Lucy inhaled sharply as he swirled his tongue around her. She hadn’t ever had this, he remembered. A renewed determination shot through him to do this right, to leave her so strung out on pleasure that she couldn’t even think. He wanted her to feel good, to feel more than good.

She ran her hands through his hair as he worked her, as he could taste her getting wetter and wetter, her sighs and moans starting to build in pitch. He pulled back, kissed her thighs, her stomach, let her go down off her high a bit, and then went back at it, adding two fingers this time, rubbing just the pads of them inside her, curling his tongue over and over.

Lucy shook, her thighs clenching around him, trying to close automatically, but Flynn held her open and she gave a cry that she tried unsuccessfully to bite back, and came against his tongue.

Flynn took his time making his way back up her body, kissing every inch of her he could reach, delighting in the way she shivered underneath him but still pressed up into his touch. Lucy was staring up at the ceiling, glassy-eyed, her mouth open, as if in shock.

“Hello, darling,” he teased.

Lucy wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in, kissing him, a little messy but deep and slick. “You, captain, look entirely too smug,” she told him, massaging his shoulders.

“Oh? Perhaps you should do something about that.”

Lucy rolled them over so that she was on top, straddling him. “Perhaps I should.”

Flynn lifted his hips, letting her get the last of his clothes off, and then Lucy was unhooking her bra and letting her hair tumble about her shoulders and God, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Michelangelo’s work was nothing compared to her.

Lucy took his cock in hand, stroking, teasing, and then bent down, tasting him with her tongue.

Flynn just about died, his breath punched out of him, everything in him sparking. “Lucy—”

She sat back up, stroking him, teasing the foreskin, then shifted. Flynn got his hands on her hips to help steady her as she guided him into her, gritting his teeth to keep from thrusting up too quickly. It had been a month, after all, he didn’t want to hurt her.

Lucy breathed hard through her nose, small gasps escaping her as she took her time. Flynn thought his eyes might roll back into his head, and by the time their hips were flush he was trying to recite the children’s birthdays to keep from ending this all too soon.

Lucy slid her hands over his chest, bracing herself, and began to thrust, shifting, rolling her hips, finding the angle that had her letting out choked-off little noises in the back of her throat.

Flynn tentatively thrust up to meet her and Lucy made a startled cry, her nails digging into his chest. Flynn did it again, and that time she moaned, long and loud, her head falling forward. There was no stopping him after that, wanting every sound she could make, greedy, as Lucy worked him, used him, took every bit of pleasure she could from him. It was all about to be over, embarrassingly quickly given how long it had been since he’d been able to be with her like this, and he kept at it, wanting to hear her, wanting to make sure she reached that peak again.

Lucy leaned forward, bracing her hands on either side of him, and kissed along his chest, seizing a nipple between her teeth to worry it for a moment before lapping at it with her tongue as if in apology. The sting, the pleasure-pain, did him in and his orgasm came like a slap to the face, something he hadn’t seen coming, sending him into a beautiful spiral.

He could feel Lucy humming, clenching around him, and he reached down, thumbing at her clit. She jerked her hips and spat out his name, her voice breaking, and he felt her muscles fluttering in that way that told him she was coming, her legs starting to tremble again.

She slid to the side and Flynn just managed to get an arm underneath her, drawing her into him. Lucy curled up against him, her head falling onto his shoulder. Her leg was still half-draped across him, her hair a mess, slick all over their legs and stomachs.

They’d clean up in a minute, Flynn reasoned.

“Worth the wait?” he asked, half teasing but also… he was the only person Lucy had ever been with. Perhaps that first time had just been the ecstasy of finally having another person with her, of being touched by someone other than herself at last. Perhaps now…

Lucy kissed along his shoulder. “Yes,” she purred, sounding like a cat with cream. “But we were interrupted far more than once. I don’t think you’re quite done making it up to me.”

“Oh? What did you have in mind.”

Lucy toyed with the hair on his chest, her nails scraping lightly. “I think I saw a rather large bathtub in the other room…”

Flynn laughed, kissing her, kissing his love, his wife, his Lucy.

* * *

They had just finished practicing for the festival when Zeller and his men approached Mason.

Jess tucked Kevin behind her, holding onto his hand. Wyatt had been worrying her with the things he was telling her, and she hated Zeller with every fiber of her being.

She appreciated that her parents were in love and all that, but she needed them to get back from her honeymoon.

“Mason.” Zeller’s voice was sharp and ringing. “I’ve just been to the Flynn household where the party flag is still not flying. It’s the only one in the town not to fly it. And the butler informs me that the captain and his wife are still not home?”

“No, as you can see.” Mason gestured at Jess and the others. “Why else would I be looking after them?”

“And you have no idea when he’ll be back?”

“None at all. We haven’t heard from him, you see, he’s on his honeymoon.”

“He’s not even contacting his children? What father doesn’t do that?”

“Herr Zeller. How many men do you know who communicate with their children while on their honeymoon?”

Jess had to stifle a laugh, as did Rufus.

“Well tell him we’re expecting to hear from him soon.” Zeller’s gaze swept over them, and Jess glared at him. _Nice job brainwashing my boyfriend, asshole._

He turned back to Mason, did that awful salute, and then turned on his heel and walked away.

Jiya ground her teeth. “I’d like to break his hand when he does that.”

“Me too,” Jess agreed. “Me too.”

* * *

Lucy wasn’t sure what the problem was, but when she finished comforting an angry, crying Jess—she and Wyatt were arguing constantly over this Third Reich business—she slipped back downstairs to find Flynn in his office.

He’d gotten a letter of some kind, delivered by not Wyatt or any other messenger boy from the youth, but Zeller himself.

Coming home to find the Nazi flag flying on the building had been bad enough. Flynn had yanked it down and ripped it in have with a grim and yet debonair savageness that Lucy had never before seen from him. It probably should have scared her.

But her husband was a principled man, and she would never ask him to change or to be any less than he was. In fact she had then taken the flag into the kitchen to burn it.

It had been while she was taking care of that matter that the letter had arrived, and she didn’t know what it said, or what words were exchanged between Flynn and Zeller, but she did know that it couldn’t be good.

She entered the office, knocking on the door as she opened it. “Garcia?”

He was pacing back and forth. Clutched in his hand was the letter—no, not a letter, she now saw, but a telegram. She had never seen him so agitated.

He stopped as she entered. “Lucy.” There was a mixture of relief and pain on his face as he saw her.

She still had questions, but first things first.

Lucy crossed over to him, sliding her hands up his chest to take his face in her hands, kissing him. She had to get up onto her tiptoes to do it, but Flynn wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her steady and press her against him. She kissed him slowly, deliberately, until she felt some of the tension bleed out of him.

It was still a thrill to her, to know that she could do this, now, that she could kiss him whenever and however and wherever she wanted. And he liked it, no—loved it. He responded to it. He craved her kisses.

At last she pulled back, smiling faintly as Flynn bumped their noses together. “_Moja draga_,” he whispered. “_Moja voljena žena_.”

“My darling,” she echoed. Her husband.

She stepped back. “I think I can assume that telegram is the reason for your upset?”

Flynn swallowed, and Lucy’s heart plummeted. “What is it?”

He held out the telegram. “I’ve been… requested, to take up a post in the German navy.”

Lucy took the telegram and read it, her eyes blurring as fury and fear overtook her. She crumpled it up. “I thought it might be—something like this but I—I didn’t think it would be so soon.”

“Joining them would be unthinkable.” Flynn looked away, out the window. “But to continue to defy them… would put us all in danger.” He looked back at her. “We have to leave.”

Lucy’s breath froze in her throat. “When?”

“Tonight.”

She stepped into Flynn’s arms just as he opened them, letting him pull her to him, nestling her head on his chest as she wrapped her arms around him. “We’ll have to be careful.”

“Get the children ready. I’ll talk to Mason.”

“Mason?”

“They’ll be watching the house. But if we can attend the festival…”

Lucy nodded. “It’s still a risk.”

“Everything is a risk, nowadays.” Flynn kissed her hair. “This was not how I wanted to start our married life.”

Lucy looked up at him. “You think I care about that? We’re together, that’s all I care about. I didn’t marry you because I thought it would be all sunshine and roses. I married you because I love you, and whatever comes—we’re in it, the two of us.”

Flynn gave her that look, the one that made her knees buckle, the one that made her feel as though he was trying to think of a way to set the world at her feet. “I love you.”

Lucy smiled, getting up onto her tiptoes to kiss him softly. “I love you too.”

Now she just had to hope that they could make it home free.

* * *

Zeller was in the audience.

Flynn could see him, with the other soldiers, watching, and his entire body went tense. He wanted to jump down into the audience and fight all of them, make them feel some real fear, show them what happened when they were cowards and small-minded bigots who rolled over for tyrants. He had never before been so aware of Kevin, Rufus, and Jiya’s skin color, their ethnicity. He wanted to stand in front of them, get in between them and the rest of the world.

As soon as the concert was over, they fled.

“There’s no way we can get to the border by the usual route,” Lucy whispered as they slipped out of the concert venue.

“No—we’ll have to go over the mountains, into Switzerland.”

Lucy’s face was pale in the moonlight. “But the children—”

“They’ll manage. We’ll carry them if we have to.”

Behind them, Flynn could hear Zeller raising the alarm. He winced. “We’ll need to find somewhere—”

“The abbey.” Lucy grabbed Jiya and Kevin’s hands. “Come on, step lively, stay quiet!”

Michelle was the one who came to the gate, but she ushered them in to Denise at once. “We’ll hide you in the crypts,” Denise whispered, leading them through the graveyard and unlocking the gate that led to them. “The borders are closed, though.”

“We’ll go over the mountains,” Flynn repeated.

Denise locked the gate behind them, then handed him the keys. “We’ll do whatever we can.”

Flynn nodded, then got behind one of the large crypt headstones, holding Kevin close to him as Rufus crouched on his other side.

Lucy took Jiya, Jess, and Iris behind another headstone. Flynn could just barely see her in the darkness, the curve of her face and the fountain of her dark hair.

“Mother?” Iris whispered. She had only just begun to call Lucy that, and every time she did, Flynn’s heart filled. “Would it help if we sang the moon song?”

“Oh darling.” Lucy held her close. “This is the one time singing won’t help. Hold onto me tightly, we must be very quiet, quiet as mice.”

Iris did, tucking her face into Lucy’s chest. Lucy looked over her head at Flynn, and he could see how wide her eyes were.

He nodded softly at her, wishing he could hold her hand.

“Try the graveyard,” someone said.

Flynn tried to keep his breathing quiet and even, holding onto Kevin tightly as several soldiers entered the area.

He dared not look to see what was happening. He could hear them rattling the various gates to the crypts, but all were locked.

“Let’s try the roof,” someone said.

The footsteps began to retreat.

Flynn peeked around the headstone—there was just one person left, a young man.

Jess, ever the stubborn one, also poked her head out.

The young man turned his head—and Jess gasped.

Flynn looked sharply at her. Jess covered her mouth, her eyes wide.

They both quickly retreated behind the headstones as the young man paused, listening.

Flynn had recognized him too—Wyatt Logan, the boy that Jess had been seeing on the sly.

After an agonizing moment, footsteps told him that Wyatt was going to join the others.

Flynn quickly stood up, and went to unlock the gate. “We’ll take the caretaker’s car, through the back.”

He sent Rufus and Kevin ahead of him, then grabbed Lucy as she came up to him, kissing her on the temple. Jiya slid past them to grab Rufus’s hand, and then—

“Stop, stop right there.”

Wyatt was stepping out from behind one of the smaller gravestones where he’d been hiding, his gun pointing right at them.

Flynn shoved Lucy behind him.

“They don’t want them,” Wyatt said. “Just you. If you come with me—”

“Don’t do this,” Flynn interrupted. Jesus, he was just a kid, only, what, seventeen? Eighteen at most?

“Wyatt.” Jess stepped forward. “Wyatt, listen to me.”

“Lucy.” Flynn kept his voice even. “Lucy, take the children.”

“I’m not leaving,” Lucy insisted, stubborn until the end, refusing to leave him.

“You don’t belong to them,” Jess insisted. “You don’t belong to them! You didn’t belong to your father and you don’t belong to them, you can come with us.”

Wyatt had an agonized expression on his face as he looked at her. Flynn’s heart leapt into his throat as Jess—stubborn, angry, defiant Jess—walked right past Lucy, right past Flynn, and right up to Wyatt, snatching the gun from him.

“You belong with _me_,” she snapped. “I claimed you. I fucking claimed you, and you claimed me, and I will get you out of this mess you dug yourself into if I have to drag you kicking and screaming out of it myself, do you understand?”

Flynn gaped at Jess as she neatly set the gun aside, grabbed the patch on Wyatt’s uniform, and ripped it off with sheer adrenaline strength.

Wyatt also gaped at her.

Jess held up the patch, fury in her voice, her hand shaking, her knuckles white. “I told you, I told you that it would start small, and then you’d be doing things you never thought you’d do. You had a gun on children, Wyatt, is that what you want? Huh?” She threw the patch aside like it burned her, like it was covered in vomit. “You aren’t this person. You aren’t hateful or cowardly like they are. Come with us. We’ll give you a place to truly belong. Those people—you’ll never belong, you’ll never stop having to prove yourself to them.”

She held out her hand. “Come with us. Come with me.”

Wyatt hesitated for a moment more, and Flynn tried once again to push Lucy away from him, to get her to run with the children, but Lucy only grabbed onto him, planting her feet, refusing.

And then Wyatt took Jess’s hand, his face crumpling.

Jess pulled him in, gently carding her fingers through his hair. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re safe now.”

“We have to go,” Rufus hissed. “Sorry to break up the love fest here!”

Flynn jerked his head at Jess and Wyatt. “He’s right. We have to move, now.”

They all hurried out the back, piling into the car, Kevin and Iris on laps, Jiya crammed at Rufus’s feet.

Flynn started the car. Lucy grabbed his hand, squeezing.

They were leaving their old life behind. Everything they knew. And with an unexpected additional guest.

But he had his family—and that was all they needed.

Flynn put the car into drive and headed for the Swiss border.

* * *

Denise watched as the Nazi officers ran to their cars with cries of _after them!_

Next to her, Michelle cleared her throat. “Reverend Mother.”

Michelle rarely called her that. Denise looked over. “Yes?”

“I’m afraid I have a confession to make. I have sinned.”

Denise raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Michelle pulled various spark plugs out of her robes. The spark plugs from the Nazis’ cars.

Denise smiled grimly. “I think God is looking the other way. Just this once.”

* * *

They had to walk across the border into Switzerland, Iris in Flynn’s arms, Rufus piggybacking Jiya at one point, Wyatt taking Iris so that Flynn could piggyback Kevin when he got blisters on his feet.

But once they got there, they could send a letter to Mason and after a tense few weeks of travel, they landed in England.

Lucy nearly sank to her knees when they got to Mason’s and the door opened to welcome them. “You all look like Hell,” Mason noted. “Come in, come in.”

Iris was bundled right off to bed while Jess burst into tears upon seeing a proper bath. Wyatt was introduced, mumbling and blushing, and then everyone was getting cleaned and tucked off to bed.

“Thank you,” Lucy whispered, once the children were in bed and Mason had gotten her and Flynn coffee. “Connor, really, thank you so much.”

Flynn collapsed onto the couch and Lucy curled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. His arm came around her and she grasped his hand, holding on tightly.

“Of course.” Mason sighed. “England itself might not even be safe for much longer. War is brewing, or so they say. I don’t know that all of us can stay here. Canada or the United States, perhaps.”

Lucy nodded, feeling her eyes closing.

Mason chuckled. “But we can discuss that tomorrow. Your bedroom is the last one on the left.”

Their own bedroom, for the first time in weeks.

Lucy wanted to be with Flynn—to make love with him, to have him inside her, to join with him—but she was just so goddamn tired.

“Do you agree with him?” she asked, sliding into Flynn’s arms under the covers, their legs tangling.

Flynn kissed the top of her head. “I’m not sure, yet. But I do know—we’re all together. And we’ll face whatever comes.”

Lucy tucked her face into his neck. “I love you.”

“_Volim te. _Always.”

She had something good, something beautiful. And she would never give them up.

Lucy held onto her husband, and finally rested.

**Author's Note:**

> The lullaby that Flynn sings to Iris and Kevin is “Kiša Pada” aka “The Rain Falls,” a traditional Croatian lullaby.


End file.
